Evidence of Marriage (7 page)

“Our copycat is deviating from Kane's signature.”

Reed nodded. A killer's signature wasn't just about the way he killed or who he chose as a victim, it showed
why
he killed. Kane had used each murder as a type of dress rehearsal, a way to hone his fantasies by killing women who resembled the woman he was obsessed with until he felt ready to go after the woman herself. The copycat had mimicked Kane's signature faithfully with the first two murders. “You mean the copycat is now developing his own signature?”

“It appears so,” Burnell said. “He's evolving. Either he was trying to hide this woman's identity, or he is developing his own tastes even as he continues to carry out Kane's orders.”

Reed stared at the photo of the body on top of the stack of reports. He didn't know how this situation could get worse, but he had the feeling that
was exactly what Burnell was trying to tell him. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means you have two serial killers to worry about.”

 

D
IANA LOOKED UP AT THE CAMERA
in the corner of the prison interview room. It stared back at her and Kane with its dark eye.

She knew Reed was watching them, listening to every word. But it wasn't enough. She needed to see him. She wanted to look into his warm eyes instead of the impersonal camera lens.

He'd kept his word during the meeting with Trent Burnell. Even though she could tell every impulse in his body was screaming to intervene. Even when she'd walked into this interview room alone to face Kane, he'd merely told her good luck. But in his eyes, she could see how much those two little words had cost him.

“The camera is on.”

The low murmur of Kane's voice ripped through her body like an electric charge. She met his emotionless eyes.

“Your boyfriend is watching.”

“I don't have a boyfriend.”

“Then you shouldn't look at the camera that way or you will.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to stem the flow
of blood up her neck and into her cheeks. The last thing she needed was to broadcast to Kane her turmoil. She was supposed to be controlling her emotions and keeping Kane from manipulating her, and already she was off to a bad start. She focused on where the conversation had left off before she'd gotten herself off track with thoughts of Reed. “You didn't answer my question.”

“I'm sorry. I was too busy watching you.” His smile reached across the distance between their chairs and burrowed under her skin.

She couldn't let him get to her. She had to focus. “I asked how you met this copycat. Have you known him a long time?”

Kane let out a sigh. “I'm here to talk about father-daughter things. Not sit through endless queries from the police.”

“When I was here yesterday, you said you would tell me more. About the copycat. About the woman he kidnapped.”

“But
you're
not doing the asking. Your mouth might be moving, but Reed McCaskey's questions are coming out.”

She didn't like hearing him say Reed's name. She didn't like him thinking about Reed at all. “They're my questions, too.”

“You really want to know about this Copycat Killer?”

“Yes.”

Kane arched his graying brows. “After what you went through with that professor, I would think hearing the details would be traumatic for you.”

And he was right. But she sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to him. “I want to know.”

He offered another cold, knowing smile and nothing else.

“You said he was like a son to you,” she prompted. “Is he your son?”

“You mean, do you have a brother?”

She leaned forward before she could stop herself. “Do I?”

“Would you like that? To have a brother?”

A brother who was a killer? A brother who was like Dryden Kane? The thought pressed down on her chest like a physical weight. She managed a weak nod.

“Not sure?”

She couldn't lie. “I wouldn't like to have a brother who kills people, no. But I'd like to
know
if I have a brother. Do I?”

“Maybe.”

“That's not an answer.”

“That's all the answer I'm going to give. At least today.”

He was keeping her on the hook, forcing her to
come back. “I'm here now. I don't know if I can make it tomorrow.”

“You will. Now tell me about Sylvie's wedding. What kind of music played when she marched down the aisle? Wagner?”

He wanted her to react to the reference to “The Wedding March.” Wanted to see how she felt about the music boxes she and Sylvie had received.

She forced herself not to raise her fingers to the heart-shaped pendant Sylvie had given her for being part of her wedding. Instead, she focused on breathing the stale prison air. She couldn't let him see her vulnerability. She couldn't let him get her off track. “Let's say I do have a brother. Does he have the same mother as Sylvie and me?”

“Back to that again.”

“Humor me.”

“Are you worried that I was—” he hesitated, as if searching for the word “—
screwing
around on your mother?”

Screwing
around? Here Kane had brutally murdered close to a dozen people, yet he'd avoided using foul language in front of her? She almost shook her head in disbelief. “Were you?”

He tilted his head to the side, looking at her as if he suspected she was an idiot. “You realize your mother was a whore, don't you?”

She forced herself not to react. “Did you?”

His eyes drove into her, piercing like ice picks. “Not once. Not a single time.”

“Then how
might
I have a brother?”

“Your mother wasn't the first.”

So it
was
someone in his past. Or at least it might be. She had to remember Kane couldn't be trusted. Any word from his lips could be a lie. But at least Sylvie and Bryce wouldn't be wasting their time in Oshishobee.

“Now you answer a question for me.”

The muscles in Diana's back and legs tensed despite her efforts to relax. She didn't want to answer his questions. She didn't want him rummaging around in her mind, trying to control her, manipulate her. But she couldn't very well refuse. She had to give answers in order to get them. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you remember from your childhood?”

“My childhood?”

“Before you were three years old?”

The time when she'd lived with him. The time before he'd murdered her mother. “I don't know. Not much, really.”

“Think.”

A tremor started deep in her chest. “Just some images, really. Feelings.”

“What images? What feelings?” He leaned forward, his handcuffs rattling on the chair arms.

She knew he was looking for something. But what? If she gave the wrong answer, would he get angry? Would he decide he was disappointed in her? That she didn't make him feel as good as she had as a child?

“What do you remember, Diana?”

The tremor moved into her legs, her arms, her hands. She gripped her thighs to stop from shaking. She would have to tell the truth. It was all she had. “I remember playing in a sandbox made from an old tractor tire.”

He nodded, urging her to go on.

“I remember a dachshund. It barked a lot. It frightened me.”

“It bit you. Do you remember that?”

She searched her mind, but the memory of being bitten wasn't there. “No.”

“It was found dead the next day. Slit down the middle and hanging in a tree.” His lips pulled back in a smile that left no doubt who had killed it. “What else?”

“I remember a story. Something about a rabbit that ran away. I remember listening to it and feeling very warm. And safe.”

His face softened with an eerie look of pleasure. “I read you that story. Every night before I tucked you in bed.”

Diana clutched her legs hard and swallowed into
a dry throat. She'd always associated that story with her mother. It couldn't be possible Kane had been the one reading to her. It couldn't be possible
he
was responsible for those warm, safe feelings. The most normal feelings she'd experienced as a child.

“What's wrong, Diana?”

Trent Burnell's warnings rang in her ears. Kane could be lying. He could be using her childhood emotions to manipulate her. She had to regain control of herself. “Nothing's wrong.”

“You don't believe that you could have loved a serial killer? You don't believe I could have been a good father?”

She didn't. She couldn't. The thought was abhorrent. He had to be lying, manipulating her. She had to hold on to that.

She thought of what Kane had told Sylvie—of how she and her sister had made him feel. If he was using the only good feelings about her childhood to manipulate her, maybe she could return the favor. Maybe she could manipulate Kane right back. “I do remember the feelings I had as a child. Good feelings.”

“I bought you presents. Little dresses. Music boxes. I did all the things a good father does.”

She forced herself to nod.

“You and Sylvie adored me. When you saw me, you would smile so hard your faces would glow.
You would ask for me to give you your bath. You would sit on my lap when we watched TV.”

“I remember.”

He arched a brow. “Do you?”

“To us, you were the most important man in the world. We worshipped you.”

His smile faded. His expression grew as cold as his eyes. “You don't remember, do you?”

“Yes, I do. I remember the feelings. The impressions.”

“Who told you to say that?”

Her stomach seized. She wiped her palms on her jeans and gripped her thighs harder. “No one told me to say anything. What do you mean?”

“The part about how I was the most important man in the world. That you worshipped me. Someone told you to play up to me. Who was it?”

Oh, God, she shouldn't have pushed it. She should have stuck to the truth and kept her mouth shut otherwise. Hadn't Trent warned her about how intelligent Kane was? How well he could read people? Hadn't she already witnessed that herself?

“Were you talking to the FBI, Diana?”

Her blood froze in her veins.

“Who did they send? A profiler? Did he tell you what I dream about at night? Did he tell you what
makes me tick?
” He fired the words at her, staccato as bullets.

Diana forced herself to remain in her chair. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I remembered the story about the rabbit. I remembered the feelings.”

“But you don't remember the profiler's name?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Was it Trent Burnell?” Kane's voice was quiet and thick with hate.

She tried to focus. She tried not to react.

“I see how it is. It isn't just McCaskey's words you're reciting. Burnell has made you into his puppet. Just like the puppet you played with as a child. The puppet I bought for you.” He jerked up on his arms. The cuffs clanged against the chair.

Diana flinched. She half expected him to break free, to reach out and grab her by the throat.

“No daughter of mine is going to be Burnell's puppet. You wanted to know who the copycat is? You wanted to know where he took that woman? You'll have to ask Burnell.”

She shook her head, her hair whipping her cheeks. “It's not like that. I only talked to him for a few minutes. He's not even here anymore. He left this morning.”

“Then you're out of luck.”

And so was Nadine Washburn. “No, please. Listen to me.”

“I did. I didn't like what I heard.” His lips pulled back in a cross between a smile and a snarl. “There
was one part of being a father I didn't like. Playing the disciplinarian. But sometimes it has to be done.”

“What are you saying?”

“That sometimes children need to be taught a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Her head whirled. She could only imagine what kind of cruel lesson he would teach. The tremble enveloped her, closing over her head like water. Drowning her.

“Learn it well, Diana. And the next time you come to see me, you'd better be on your knees.”

Head pounding with Kane's quiet words, Reed followed Corrections Officer Nathan Seides's broad shoulders out of the prison in silence, Diana by his side. It wasn't until after he'd signed out, retrieved his pistol and settled into the driver's seat of his sedan that he was able to convince his voice to function.

“I'm so sorry, Diana. I never should have asked Burnell to come. I should have known Kane would sense you'd talked to someone.”

Diana fastened her seat belt with shaking hands. Folding her arms across her chest, she stared through the bug-spattered windshield. “I was the one who blew it.”

“You? You were great in there.”

“No, I wasn't. I tried too hard. I told him I remembered things I didn't. I knew I had to be honest with him or he'd know I was lying. But I
wasn't.” She shook her head. “I only knew a few warm, safe feelings in my childhood. One was that story. That feeling I had when it was read to me. I just couldn't stand the thought that
he
was responsible for that. Do you think he was?”

He knew what she wanted to hear. And he wanted with all his heart to pronounce Kane a liar. But he'd promised last night he would give things to her straight. “I don't know.”

“I guess it doesn't matter. We can't change what happened. But I'm afraid for Nadine, Reed. I'm afraid the copycat is going to kill her because of me.”

Reed wanted to reassure her, tell her they would find Nadine Washburn, that she would be okay. But he couldn't do that. No more than he could make pronouncements he didn't know to be true. “His intention was to kill her all along, Diana. Remember that.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

He held up a hand. “Serial killers don't just kidnap, they kill. Our chances of finding Nadine alive might be slimmer after this, but they were almost nonexistent from the beginning.”

He knew she didn't want to believe it. Hell, he didn't blame her. Even with all she'd been through in her twenty-three years, she hadn't seen even a small fraction of life's underbelly. He hoped she never had to experience more of it than she already
had. “We need to be more covert about your involvement in the case. For your safety. There's no point in egging Kane on.”

“Covert? What does that mean? That I sit in my hotel room and knit?”

And you don't come out until this is over.
He took a deep breath, trying to come up with a more tactful way of saying it. “Being seen riding around with me isn't a good idea.”

“But I can go to the district office, right? I can help there.”

He shifted in his seat, trying to stave off the pain from another shot of acid to his burgeoning ulcer.

“As long as I don't
go
anywhere, Kane won't know the difference, right?”

“I suppose you're right. And we could use your help. The paperwork that goes with coordinating a case like this is staggering. We never have enough civilian support staff.” Of course, with all Diana knew about Kane, she brought more to the table than the average civilian. And she'd certainly be safe sitting in the district office surrounded by police. The wheels in his mind started turning, thinking of ways she might be able to help.

He started the car, the AC slapping him in the face with a bout of refreshingly cold air. He had to admit, he was more comfortable with the thought of Diana being where he could see her, watch over
her. He wasn't dumb enough to tell her that after their discussion last night, but he liked the idea all the same.

Even though every hour with her made it harder and harder to remember she was no longer his.

He focused on the case, turning things over in his mind as they made the hour drive back to Madison.

They reached the shadow of the state capitol at about one o'clock and circled on the one-way street a block off the capitol square. Turning on Carroll Street, they approached the district office entrance.

A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. As television cameras turned to capture his and Diana's images, ice descended into his gut. “Damn Perreth. He must have convinced the lieutenant to issue a press release. Or he just booked it. I'm going to choke the living—” He hit the gas, cruising right past the swarm of reporters and cameras. He turned right onto another one-way street and started winding his way around the block. “We'll go in through the garage. Hopefully the buzzards don't have that door staked out.”

“So much for Kane not seeing us together.”

“They haven't gotten a clear shot yet.” He turned back onto Doty Street. If he was smart, he'd take Diana straight to the hotel, no matter what her protests.

He glanced at her. Despite the determined set to
her chin, fine lines rimmed her lips and dug between her eyebrows.

What he wouldn't give to smooth those lines away with his fingers. What he wouldn't give to hit the highway and keep driving until she was far away from Dryden Kane.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he would always try to take care of her, despite the odds, despite his failures. Maybe he would never change. Maybe, if he was honest with himself, he didn't even want to.

A weight settled in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He swung onto Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, passing the main entrance to the City County Building. A smattering of people stood at the entrance, waiting to pass through the metal detectors. Jurors and office personnel returning from lunch? Or reporters? He couldn't tell. Taking the next turn onto Wilson Street, he braced himself.

The block was nearly vacant except for a single man standing near the door to the police garage. “I should have known.”

“Who is he?”

“Aidan Powell. Reporter for the
Capital Times.
A real pain in the ass. The good thing is, I think we can avoid photos and names.” He swung the car to the curb. Hitting the button to open the garage door, he lowered his window. “I should have known you'd be here.”

“Got a chance to talk, Detective?” Powell ducked his head, trying to get a look inside the car.

“I'll have to get back to you, but I'm sure we can work something out.”

“You know I'll hold you to that.”

“I know.” Reed hit the gas, breathing a sigh of relief. “Powell's a good guy, for a reporter.”

“So you're going to talk to him?”

Reed nodded. “I'll talk. Perreth's right about one thing. The press can be very helpful in cases like this…when they aren't plastering every leaked word all over the news.” He could only hope Perreth hadn't mentioned that Dryden Kane's daughters were helping on the case. That would produce the kind of copy that would turn even ethical reporters like Aidan Powell into rabid dogs.

Closing the garage door securely behind them, Reed piloted the car into his assigned spot. So far, so good. He got out and led Diana through the garage and into the adjoining offices. The place still smelled like a sewer. Hopefully the lieutenant had procured some office space for the task force. Not only would he have a blistering headache if he had to breathe this smell all day and night, with both the central and east districts operating out of this building, they would never have enough space for the task force now that it would be going full tilt again.

Reed glanced out the station's front door. Ellen Yee sat at the reception desk, the gate before the flood of reporters outside. Ellen had a ways to grow to hit the five-foot mark and had only been with the department a year, but she was tougher than any street punk. As long as the national media hadn't descended, she would keep the reporters in line. Reed suspected the locals were a little bit afraid of her.

Too bad Ellen couldn't keep Stan Perreth out.

The moment Reed spotted him, it was all he could do to keep from slamming his fist into that bulldog face.

The detective flipped an unlit cigarette in stained fingers and glared at Diana. “Is bringing your girlfriend to work going to be an everyday thing now, McCaskey?”

Reed didn't bother answering. Instead, he turned to Diana. He didn't like Perreth's comments about her, but he liked the way the bastard looked at her even less. “I'll meet you in the conference room.” He held his breath, praying she wouldn't argue and make this a bigger mess than it was already.

To his relief, she nodded and peeled off down the side hall.

Reed jabbed the videotape from the prison at Perreth. “Make copies of this. VHS and DVD.”

“I'm not your errand boy.”

“Actually, if you want to stay on this task force, you are.”

“I don't have time. I'm getting ready to give a statement to the press.”

“I haven't approved a statement. In fact, I told you we were going to wait on informing the media.”

“I don't need your approval. I have the lieutenant's.”

“And he told you to run it by me then, I'm sure.” Reed grabbed the paper out of Perreth's hand, causing him to drop the cigarette. As Perreth stooped to pick it up, Reed skimmed the statement.

Just as he'd feared, Perreth had sprinkled Diana's name throughout his statement, even going so far as to identify her as Dryden Kane's daughter.

Reed crumpled it with one hand. “You're not mentioning Diana's role in this. And you're
not
admitting she's here.”

“Why the hell not? She doesn't get special protection just because you're—”

“It's not special protection. Copy the tape, and while you're at it, watch the damn thing. Then you'll understand why we need to keep her presence here quiet.” He thrust the tape into Perreth's hand.

He stepped away from Perreth before he gave into his urges and slugged the guy, and joined Diana and Nikki in the conference room. “Any word on office space that doesn't reek?”

Nikki raised a brow. “No word yet. But count yourselves lucky. Except for my little vacation to the north district this morning, I've been steeping in it like a tea bag for twenty-four hours.”

Voices erupted from outside the conference room. Diana and Nikki looked up at Reed. He held up a hand. “I'll see what it's about.”

He'd just turned around when all five-foot-eleven of Meredith Unger burst through the door.

Ellen Yee chased in her wake. “You can't just barge in there—”

“We need to talk, McCaskey.”

He couldn't agree more. “I've got it, Ellen.”

“Thanks.” Spinning around, the petite woman rushed back to her post to block any reporters who might try to run the play Meredith Unger just had.

Reed glared at the attorney. Meredith Unger had the rep of a shark and the size of a small football player. Although she didn't work criminal cases much anymore, Reed had sat in the hot seat during a few of her cross-examinations in the past. Even then he'd never known her to be this zealous. “What's going on?”

She flipped a hank of platinum hair back over her shoulder. “Who the hell gave you permission to talk to my client without me present?”

“Your client?”

“Don't play dumb.”

“Who's playing?” Here he'd thought yesterday was a bad day. This day was shaping up to be straight out of hell. Reed's gaze shot to Diana. A reflex. And a bad one.

“This is her, isn't it? The daughter?” Meredith raised a plucked brow. “I knew it.”

Reed shook his head. He couldn't believe this. For someone who was trying to keep Diana's presence here from Dryden Kane, he was doing a damned awful job. “What is it you think you know?”

“Her presence here says everything. This woman isn't visiting my client because she's his long-lost family. She's manipulating him. She's working as an agent of the police.”

 

D
IANA FOLDED HER ARMS
around her middle and hunched forward in the conference-room chair. Her head spun, making her feel as dizzy and queasy as if she were on a carnival ride. She hadn't stopped shaking since her visit to Kane. And with the press and Perreth and Meredith Unger swirling around her ever since, she felt thoroughly disoriented. And now Kane's attorney thought
she
was manipulating
him?

The irony was as thick as the scent of sewer.

She had told Reed she wanted to stand alone. That she wanted to take care of herself. And she did. But she couldn't help being grateful he was
with her. She didn't know how she would have survived this morning without him.

He had successfully sequestered Meredith Unger in his office with Nikki, promising to join them directly. Now he stood at the other end of the room barking orders to Perreth. “Search court records. I want to see a client list for Meredith Unger.”

“Do you really think she's Kane's connection to the copycat? Or are you just looking to waste my time?”

“Why? You have somewhere else to be?”

Perreth tapped a cigarette from his pack and glanced longingly out the door.

“I didn't think so.”

Heaving a theatrical sigh, Perreth ambled out of the conference room, walking past Diana as if she weren't there.

Another thing to be grateful for.

Diana watched him go, glad to have a moment alone with Reed. She should probably tell him he was right, that she should have stayed away from the district office, that she should have holed up in her hotel room. But the thought of sitting helpless in her room was worse than any amount of dirty looks Perreth could throw at her, or inferences Meredith Unger could make. “What is Meredith Unger going to do?”

“Do? Beyond making our lives hell?” He
rubbed a hand over his face. “I suppose she's getting ready to argue that any action Kane takes after his talks with you was set up by police. Entrapment, or some kind of garbage.”

“And she can get away with that?”

“I didn't say that. Just that she'll try. The worst thing about her barging in here is that I can almost guarantee she'll tell Kane you were here.”